


What is dead may never die: the Mockingbird will always fly

by DaughterOfIceAndFire



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Afterlife, Dark, Dreams, F/M, Fluff, Halloween, Love, lord of the underworld, vengeance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 09:53:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12579116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaughterOfIceAndFire/pseuds/DaughterOfIceAndFire
Summary: Petyr Baelish may be dead in this world, but he is very much alive in the next. And he is determined to return to his unfinished affair to play a little game. These days Sansa has 3 strange visitors. Set after S7 E7.





	What is dead may never die: the Mockingbird will always fly

_Petyr Baelish was never thought to be a man of giving up. Not even when his own dagger cut his throat, he wasn’t thinking of the end. He was wondering about the future, about his next move. Fighting for your desires never ends for such a man like he was. Or he is. As he was falling towards the ground, gasping for breath, he let go of everything from this life to find something in a new. Everything, except the love of a boy and the affection of the man. That was the only thing he could never let go of._  


_He didn’t need too much time to find a place in the afterlife. A place, from where his goal was almost reachable, nearly visible, barely touchable._  
_As the Lord of the Underworld he remained determined to get what he wants. He was ambitious yet hurt, peaceful yet driven by vengeance. But why? Because of the love for a woman who’d murdered him.  
_

_So he made up his mind to understand his love’s motives, he decided to play a game. A game of three nights to answers his questions, dissolve his doubts. The game began and he assumed the worst._

**Night 1**  


Many names were attached to him throughout his life and in the aftermath. Petyr Baelish. Littlefinger. Lord of Harrenhall. Lord Protector of the Vale. King of the Ashes. The Lord of the Underworld. The devil himself. He preferred Petyr though.  
Now he could take up the form of anyone, it was part of his game now. Today he turned into the honourable and foolish Eddard Stark and visited Sansa in her sleep. She was dreaming of standing high in Winterfell Castle, looking over the snow-covered fields towards the south. He approached her, still unnoticed, and called out to her in Ned’s voice.  
“I told you that winter is coming,” – he said.  
She turned back in amusement and confusion.  
“Father?” – her light blue eyes were wide.  
“I’m proud of you, Sansa. You’ve come quite a long way since we last met.”  
“Proud?” – she asked sadly. – “You should be anything but proud. I made so many fouls, terrible mistakes,” – she sighed. – “That’s the reason why many people died. I was a liar back then when the butcher’s boy died because I haven’t told the truth. Aunt Lysa died as well. Now people die because I placed honour above all else.”  
“Sometimes the line between truth and lie is very narrow. And sometimes we listen to our heart and not our brain. There’s no crime in following your heart, there are only mistakes. We all make them,” – Petyr smiled sadly. – “Tell me, Sansa, do you regret the death of the butcher’s boy?”  
She nodded silently.  
“Do you regret the death of Aunt Lysa?” – Petyr continued with Ned’s calmness.  
“Does admitting that I don’t, make the crime less serious?” – she asked, face pale.  
Petyr smiled on her honesty. She was still the girl he’d met in King’s Landing, but living in an armour of steel. And he helped her to become the person she is now.  
“And what about Lord Baelish?” – he asked finally. – “Do you regret his death?” _Do you regret my death?_  
This question has been looming over her head for a while. She was entirely sure of her choice first, but then doubts began to rise. The evaluation still remains undecided.  
After a few moments of silence she said:  
“My brain says that I shouldn’t, but my heart says that I do.”

**Night 2**  


The day after Petyr took the form of the bastard, Ramsay, and visited Sansa for the second time. Sansa was dreaming of walking in the godswood in Winterfell, when she saw Ramsay’s figure. Petyr was just standing there, watching Sansa’s face turn into a horrified grimace, she looked even more disgusted than she was during their meeting in Mole’s Town. Petyr had to try his very best to act as if he was really the Bolton boy. On one side, he felt terrible for torturing his love, but on the other, he was content to take a bit of vengeance on his executioner.  
“My dear wife,” – he exclaimed in Ramsay’s typical sadistic voice.  
“You don’t belong here,” – she said coldly. – “You’ve died.”  
Petyr shrugged his shoulders.  
“The dead may never die,” – he could barely hide his smirk. How ironic.  
“What do you want from me?” – she asked rigidly.  
“From you?” – he grinned. – “Nothing much, really. You seem rather boring, as if my presence had no impact on you whatsoever. Though I may be able to find someone you like that I can torture as much as I did you, or even more.  
Sansa remained silent, the idea frightened her, because she didn’t go in fear for her life anymore, but she was afraid for the people she loved.  
“What if I visit your sister the other night?” – he played with her. – “Would she enjoy my attendance more?”  
Sansa started to find her grip loosen, Ramsay was clearly getting control over the situation. He played to cut open the nearly healed wounds and he seemed to succeed in it.  
“But don’t be afraid, my dear wife, I won’t disregard you. I promise I’ll return from dead every day to see you,” – he said. – “I was never a neglectful husband, was I?”  
Something broke in Sansa. The time spent since Ramsay’s death wasn’t enough for full recovery after such pain and misery. She fell to her knees, her face buried in her hands, head bowed and Petyr watched her fall into pieces in front of his eyes.  
That’s when he decided it was enough for today. He left Sansa’s dream, so she couldn’t see him anymore in Ramsay’s skin, but he could see her, still asleep, lying on her bed, disturbed by the nightmare he caused.  
She was trembling, half-crying, half-begging and there was one sentence clearly distinct in the mumble.  
_“Petyr, if you could help me!”_

**Night 3**  


Sansa drifted into her dreams: she was sitting at her table in her scarcely lit chamber. She was doing the paperwork that the Lady of Winterfell should do, when she heard three quiet knocks on the door. She called out an enter, and a black hooded, elegantly dressed figure appeared, standing on her threshold. The visitor walked in, only turning away from her to close the door. She had no key who that mysterious person was.  
“Who are you?” – she asked.  
The answer was elusive.  
“Are you not happy to see me, my love?” – said the familiar voice.  
She jumped up from her seat.  
“Is it you?” – her question was barely audible. – “Is it really you?”  
He removed the hood and now she could catch a glimpse of Petyr’s face. He looked almost the same as he did on the day he died. The day she had him killed. But he didn’t seem to be dead at all as he was standing proudly in front of her. His face was calm, he stood firmly with all his confidence. She noticed that he was wearing the Valyrian steel dagger on his belt. The one that had cut his throat.  
The thought frightened her almost instantly as she realized that he came to murder her. To avenge the day she sentenced him to die. And Sansa lost all her strength to protest.  
“Don’t waste our time, just get over with it,” – she said resignedly.  
He slowly walked towards her with that sly smirk on his face. When he was standing right in front of her, he pulled out the dagger and held it between their neck, showing it to her. She saw the light glimmer on the Valyrian steel blade.  
“Have you imagined what it feels like when the cold steel reaches your skin and cuts into the flesh?” he asked ominously. – “I know the feeling too well.”  
She forgot to breathe as her end was standing so close.  
“The physical pain must be excruciating, though I don’t recall much of it. The only thing I felt at that moment was the pain of your rejection. It hunted me ever since,” – he whispered into her ear. She could feel his breath on her face, he was standing so close. His expression was mixed: grief, confidence, and anger.  
Sansa realized that she had avenged everything that Petyr did to her. She took his life and that was the final and most serious thing she could ever take from him.  
“Would you like to say something, Sansa?” – he asked in an eerie and unnerving voice. He lowered the dagger, but held it firmly.  
Somehow she found her voice.  
“I know that there’s no pardon in betrayal and murder,” – she said, her knees hardly holding her. – “But before I die, I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. My decision hurt me as much as it hurt you. Now that I told you, I can leave this place in peace,” – she couldn’t look into his eyes anymore.  
“If I knew that there was no chance you could ever love me, I wouldn’t have returned,” – he said in a softer voice. – “But I hold onto every possibility,” – a familiar smirk appeared on his face.  
He dropped the dagger that fell to the floor and held Sansa in his arms.  
“I am so sorry, my love, that I scared you. I could never harm you, you know that. I promise that this was the last time you were in my game,” – he said to her softly. – “But I needed to know how you feel.”  
Sansa buried her face into his neck.  
“But how could you return? Are you alive, Petyr?” – she asked, her voice trembling a bit.  
“No, I am as dead as I can be. I am the Lord of the Underworld now, the ruler of afterlife.”  
“How can we meet again?” – she questioned him. Now she finally understood. – “You visited me in my dreams. Are you even real or just my imagination?”  
“Of course I am real, my love,” – he said. – “But I can’t visit you while you’re awake. A whole world separates us. And not even the Lord of the Underworld is powerful enough to travel through entirely different worlds.”  
He looked into her eyes and gently stroke a lock of red hair behind her ear.  
“I may not meet you in your world, but you can meet me in mine,” – he said with a promise of hope in his eyes. – “Would you come with me, my love?”  
“I would. More ardently than ever.” – she said smiling. That made him smile too. – “But how can I?”  
His smirk grew wider as he said it:  
“I will find a way.”

**Author's Note:**

> A dark and fluffy story for Halloween night. Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it :) Kudos, comments are welcome, let me know what you think! Feedback helps me a lot :)


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